Operation Distraction...by any means necessary!

How do you get a hot but aggravating ex-SEAL to relax? Kennedy Duchane arranged for a documentary about Trident diving team’s first big find, the Chimera. But it turns out movie-star-handsome former SEAL Asher Reynolds can woo just about everything...except a camera. Fortunately, they’ve found the perfect antianxiety remedy—all that sexual tension they’ve been avoiding!

Sex—especially hungry, intense, no-holds-barred sex—with Kennedy breaks pretty much every rule in the book. Employee? Check. Best friend’s little sister? Check, check. Asher knows he’s in over his head. And now what started as a naughty distraction is quickly turning into something far deeper...something strong enough to sweep even the strongest SEAL out to sea.

“You shouldn’t be doing this...”

Kennedy grinned in response and flicked the button on her shorts open. The sound of her zipper, metal grinding against metal, was loud in Asher’s ears.

“Nope. You can’t touch.”

“What?” he asked in disbelief. The woman was giving him a striptease and expected him to keep his hands to himself?

She was crazy. Or wickedly, wickedly devious.

Or both.

“You get through the rest of these interview questions without hesitating and then you can have your reward.”

How was he supposed to resist with her standing in front of him in nothing but red lace panties and a matching bra?

He was human. He’d been fighting his desire for too long. He couldn’t fight anymore.

“Then you better hurry with those questions before I say to hell with it and give you exactly what you’re asking for...”

Dear Reader,

It’s a little bittersweet to see the end of my SEALs of Fortune series. Over the past year, I’ve enjoyed working with these amazing men and the headstrong women who fall for them, immersing myself in their intense, honorable and sometimes hectic world.

At the core of this series is a family that’s formed not necessarily by blood, but brotherhood, battle and shared values. That is no more evident than in Asher Reynolds’s story. A man used to being left behind, Asher learns that he’s worth choosing, worth wanting and worth respecting. Kennedy Duchane is just the strong-willed woman to teach him that valuable lesson. Beneath their verbal clashes is an attraction neither of them wants to admit. A vulnerability that puts them on edge and forces them to acknowledge that people and situations can’t always be controlled. The question is, can they both let go of their pasts long enough to appreciate what’s right in front of them?

I hope you enjoy Under Pressure! If you’ve missed any of the other SEALs of Fortune books, check them out to get a glimpse into Kennedy and Asher’s history, and learn more about the family they’ve formed with Jackson Duchane, Loralei Lancaster, Knox McLemore and Avery Walsh.

I’d love to hear from you at kirasinclair.com, or come chat with me on Twitter, @KiraSinclair.

Best wishes,

Kira

Under Pressure

Kira Sinclair

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KIRA SINCLAIR writes emotional, passionate contemporary romances. A double winner of the National Readers’ Choice Award, her first foray into writing fiction was for a high school English assignment. Nothing could dampen her enthusiasm...not even being forced to read the love story aloud to the class. Writing about sexy heroes and strong women has always excited her. She lives with her two beautiful daughters in north Alabama. Kira loves to hear from readers at kirasinclair.com.

My life has been a little crazy over the past year, a roller coaster of experiences and emotions. But there are a handful of people I know I can count on to be there for me when I’m at my weakest. This book is dedicated to Andrea Laurence, Kimberly Lang, Dani Wade and Marilyn Baxter. I often feel like I’m spread thin and you guys get the shaft, but when I hit a wall and feel like I can’t keep going, just knowing you’re close pushes me to do it anyway. Love you!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

1

“YOU’RE MY ONLY OPTION.” Sure, the words might have sounded like a plea for help, but that wasn’t how Kennedy Duchane meant them. At all.

She glared at the man in front of her, ready to use whatever means necessary to compel his cooperation. Despite being a foot shorter and roughly a hundred pounds lighter, she wasn’t opposed to dropping Asher Reynolds to his knees if that became necessary.

She had an older brother who also happened to be a former navy SEAL—he’d taught her plenty over the years.

Asher’s mouth formed a lazy smile. “Aww, cupcake, we both know that isn’t true. I’m sure the devil would be happy to fix whatever’s got your panties in a twist if you just ask nicely.”

Kennedy blinked. As far as she was concerned, Asher Reynolds was the devil, but she had no intention of asking him for anything, nicely or otherwise. She was demanding. He might be her boss—or one of them—but not even that was going to save him from doing what she needed this time.

Florida sunshine poured through the window at Asher’s back, gilding him in a way that was frustrating and enticing all at once. She could practically feel it warming her skin and wished she were on one of their beautiful Jacksonville beaches right now instead of in this office arguing—again—with the frustrating man.

But wishing wasn’t going to take care of the problem. Taking a deep breath, Kennedy marched the rest of the way into his office. As always, he was sprawled out, wireless keyboard in his lap, feet propped up on the corner of his desk. She had no idea how he accomplished anything. But he did.

Kennedy had to give him that, even if it did burn a little. He was brilliant at business. And, given a different set of circumstances, she would have loved to learn from him.

Knocking his black motorcycle boots off the desk, Kennedy relished the way Asher’s body rocked back in the chair as his feet connected with the floor.

“Seriously, you know you’re going to have to do this, right?”

He frowned up at her out of those moss-green eyes that had the ability to make her feel like a butterfly pinned to a board.

Plopping her butt on to the desk corner she’d just cleared, Kennedy crossed her arms over her chest and settled in. This was one fight she would not lose.

“We leave for the Bahamas tomorrow whether you like it or not.”

“Since when do you issue orders, baby girl? I’m pretty sure I’m still the one signing your paycheck.”

“Wrong, Jackson signs the paychecks, but even if you did, you’re still going. I need you on this documentary.” The words grated a little coming out of her throat, but they were true. She did need him. Desperately.

Several months ago, her brother, Jackson, had discovered a sunken Civil War ship lost for more than one hundred and fifty years. The company Jackson, Asher and Knox owned together, Trident Diving and Salvage, now had exclusive recovery rights. If the rumors of gold in the ship were true, it would put an end to their financial worries for good. In the meantime, she hoped the documentary about Trident’s discovery and salvaging of the Chimera would keep them in the media spotlight and bring in new clients.

“I don’t think so,” Asher drawled, his Southern accent smooth as aged whiskey. “Get one of the other guys to do it. Someone who’s actually spent time on the salvage team. Ryan, Juan, Drake.”

She was already shaking her head before he’d even gotten one name past his lips. “No, no and no. I promised the production company Jackson. I’ve already had to do some fancy footwork in order for them to accept you. Luckily, your face is rather appealing and makes up for your smart mouth.”

“Aw, shucks. You’re gonna make me blush.”

“Shut it,” Kennedy growled, knocking the pointed toe of her shoe against his shin. The tap wasn’t hard enough to even leave a mark, let alone a bruise. But she couldn’t quite suppress the small, petty spurt of satisfaction when he winced.

“I’m telling dad.” Asher mock whined.

“Go right ahead. I’m pretty sure he loves me more.”

Asher let out a huff, the first sign that he was really taking her seriously. “Jackson can leave Loralei in charge for a couple weeks.”

“You know we can’t spare either of them right now.”

It was bad timing. There was no doubt. But Kennedy couldn’t muster the energy to regret Jackson and Loralei’s newest discovery, several clustered artifacts found at the bottom of the Mediterranean. They were all salivating over the possibility that this new find could indicate a lost ancient city. Since they’d been challenged for their rights to the Chimera, they were taking no chances with their latest score. They had to keep it quiet until the paperwork was in place. And Jackson needed to stay at the site to protect their claim.

“What about Knox?”

Kennedy sighed, allowing herself one brief moment of disappointment before she pushed it away. Working with Knox would have been a breeze. And come with the added bonus of Avery Walsh, a nautical archeologist with years of experience.

Goddamn the flu.

“It’s you, Asher. Don’t make me call Jackson and Knox.”

As far as she could tell, they were the only people in the world who could compel Asher to do anything. Now that she thought about it, in the two years she’d known him, Kennedy had never heard him speak of any other friends or family. Trident appeared to be his entire life. The man didn’t even have a pet.

Asher leaned forward, sliding the keyboard he’d been holding onto the top of his desk. “Trust me when I say you need to find someone else.”

She’d known, the moment she’d realized Asher was the only option she had, that he wouldn’t want to do it. She’d anticipated his refusal, his arguments and hadn’t counted out the possibility of a full-blown tantrum.

What she hadn’t expected was the earnest, intense way he stared at her as he evenly announced he wasn’t the man for the job. For a second she almost believed he had a valid reason for refusing.

But then she realized who she was talking to and swallowed back the unwelcome well of concern. Asher didn’t deserve it. He was playing her, nothing more.

Leaning forward, Kennedy chucked him under the chin. “Sorry, frogman, time to take one for the team.” And then turned to leave.

Stopping at the door, she tossed a warning glance over her shoulder. “Our plane leaves at nine in the morning. If I have to hunt you down, I’ll make you regret it.”

* * *

ASHER UNCLENCHED HIS fists from the arms of his chair. Blood rushed back into his fingers.

He could feel the tension building inside his body. Just the thought of what she was asking him to do...

First, his shoulders and back tightened. Then his stomach cramped, tying into knots any sailor would be proud of. His throat closed up. His mouth went dry. And his tongue suddenly felt useless, four times bigger than his mouth.

Familiar symptoms for a major problem he couldn’t seem to conquer no matter how hard he tried. His body reacted the same way to any stressful situation. Had since he was six years old.

The sensations were so familiar. Straight out of his childhood nightmares. The memories, the taunts. The humiliation and embarrassment. Everyone staring as his mouth stumbled and refused to form the words his brain was screaming.

He was a goddamned navy SEAL. Was the toughest of the tough, could stare down terrorists, defuse bombs and take a bullet with barely a flinch. But this, this one weakness he’d been struggling with for so long, he couldn’t master.

Over the years he’d perfected avoidance tactics, successfully extricating himself from situations likely to trigger his speech impediment. Hell, even his best friends weren’t aware of his issue.

And he wanted to keep it that way.

Unfortunately, Kennedy’s request—no, demand—was going to blow that possibility straight out of the water.

And to put the icing on this craptastic cake, she would be there to witness his humiliation.

There was no doubt in Asher’s mind that just her presence was going to make the situation ten times worse. There was something about Kennedy Duchane that got under his skin.

Her scent. Her take-charge attitude. Her ability to call him on his bullshit and the way she stared at him out of those whiskey-brown eyes.

The fact that there was no way on God’s green earth he could touch her even though that was the only thing he wanted whenever she was close.

Even now, the scent of Kennedy’s perfume lingered in his office, taunting him long after she was gone.

It bothered him, the way she could affect him without even trying. The way his body always seemed to overrule his brain.

Kennedy was off-limits. His best friend’s little sister, his employee, not to mention nine years younger than he was. There were so many reasons to keep his hands to himself, but the more time he spent with her the harder that seemed to be.

His solution was to avoid Kennedy as much as he could. A little difficult considering she worked for the company he co-owned. So when that wasn’t possible, he did his best to push her away with snarky comments.

Lucky for him, she was easy to manipulate. Because he suspected if she ever realized how much power she held over him...she wouldn’t hesitate to use it.

And he could admit he’d probably earned her wrath.

The project she was ready to throw him headfirst into was a bad idea on multiple fronts. How the hell had he ended up in this situation?

More importantly, how could he extricate himself before everyone in his life discovered the secret he’d been hiding for years?

Picking up the phone, Asher dialed Knox’s cell.

He didn’t bother with pleasantries, just launched straight into the attack when his friend answered. “What the hell, man? You on death’s door?”

“Feels that way,” Knox croaked.

“Bullshit. I’ve seen you crawl through mud with a bullet hole oozing blood. I had a temp of one-oh-one when we took that little village outside of Kandahar. Suck it up, buttercup. We need you.”

“I’m not—” Knox’s words cut off abruptly, and he could hear the sound of scuffling in the background before a smooth, soft voice came on the line. “Asher, whatever you want, the answer is no.”

“Firecracker,” Asher said, a grin tugging at his lips.

Now, Avery Walsh was a woman he liked. And it wasn’t just because she delighted in giving his friend shit. That had a lot to do with his affection for her, but she was a force to be reckoned with all on her own. “How’ve you been?”

“I’m wonderful, but Knox feels like crap.”

“So he was saying.”

“I’ve already talked with Kennedy.” He could hear the suppressed humor in Avery’s voice and wanted to hate her for it, but couldn’t quite muster up the energy.

Damn Kennedy for her organizing tendencies and preemptive strike.

“Listen,” he started, modulating his voice into a smooth tone with only a hint of cajoling thrown into the mix.

“Don’t even start,” Avery warned. Asher wasn’t sure he liked the fact that the women in the group talked to each other on a regular basis. It was definitely becoming a problem for him.

“You’re not getting out of this one, Ash. Not this time.” She didn’t even bother to hide the laughter warming her words. He probably should have taken offense, but didn’t.

“I’m glad you think this is funny,” he drawled, leaning back and propping his feet up into their normal position on the edge of his desk.

His entire body relaxed, sinking down into the forgiving leather of his office chair.

This was familiar territory, bantering with a beautiful woman. Safe and comfortable, especially because he knew nothing he did or said could tempt Avery away from the man she loved.

“Trust me, it’s funny as hell,” she said. “Your pretty face is finally working against you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, you know you’re beautiful, Asher. And you use it to your advantage.”

Shit, he didn’t see anything wrong with that. The navy had taught them all to use the assets they’d been given. He was just following orders, nothing more, nothing less.

“It’s gratifying to see it turned against you for a change,” Avery continued.

“You know, I really liked you, doc...before you turned into such a ball buster.”

Avery chuckled, completely unfazed. “Your charm isn’t going to get you out of this one, sailor. Sorry.”

It had been a long shot, but one he’d had to at least try. Because the alternative... A cold wash of dread rushed through his body.

Saying goodbye to Avery, Asher disconnected and stared at his computer screen without actually seeing what was there.

Shit. He was out of options.

He’d stared down heartless terrorists. Watched as boys who were barely strong enough to hold the guns they were using died in a war they likely didn’t understand. He’d jumped out of perfectly functioning airplanes and plunged his body into raging cold seas. Putting his own life on the line was nothing new. Danger and fear were nothing new. That kind of stress he could easily deal with, because he was equipped to handle it. Felt comfortable and confident in his skills and training.

So why the hell couldn’t he conquer this?

The only easy day was yesterday.

Today, the Navy SEAL motto was cold comfort. Taking a deep breath, Asher forced himself to relax his body. He would find a way to make this work.

Kennedy hadn’t given him any other choice.

And he’d be damned if he’d let her see him at his weakest.

* * *

KENNEDY HALF EXPECTED to have to track Asher down, which was why she’d told him nine when their plane really didn’t leave until ten. Padding in extra time for disaster had simply been good strategy.

Until the man actually strolled up to the gate at eight.

She should have been relieved. She wasn’t. Because that meant they had an hour and a half to kill sitting outside their gate before their flight boarded.

Asher folded himself into the uncomfortable chair next to her, the bench kind with chrome arms sticking out to delineate each seat from the next. Why hadn’t he taken one chair down?

His shoulders rubbed against hers, forcing Kennedy to shift into the opposite corner to get away from him.

The flight was going to be hell.

“Nine, huh,” he murmured in that deep, dark voice that always managed to send a shiver down her spine.

The only outward reaction Kennedy allowed was for her mouth to tighten into a frown.

“I suppose I deserved that,” he said, stretching his legs out until they practically touched the bench on the opposite side of the aisle.

He was tall, at least a couple of inches over six feet. With wide shoulders and a narrow waist that tapered into the most perfect tight ass she’d ever seen. He could wear the hell out of a pair of jeans. Or a business suit. Or a wet suit.

Wait, what had they been talking about?

“Yes, you did. I’m just glad I didn’t have to chase after you.”

The minute the words left her mouth, Kennedy regretted them. She held her breath, waiting for the smart-ass comment she knew was coming.

“Darlin’, if I’d known you wanted a chase, I’d have been happy to oblige.”

Kennedy raked him with the sharp edge of her gaze. “I don’t chase.”

Asher’s lips tugged up at the edges. “No, I can’t imagine you would, baby girl.”

God, she hated when he called her that. But she’d given up reprimanding him for the slight a long time ago.

She needed to pull this conversation—and the entire trip—back to center. And the fastest method for that was reminding him—and herself—just what their purpose was.

Reaching into her bag, Kennedy pulled out the glossy dossier she’d prepared for Asher and handed it to him.

He took it, his big fingers tangling with hers for a moment before finally letting go. Asher stared at her for several seconds and then glanced down, flipping through the papers.

She’d taken the time to write up a detailed agenda for the trip and included that along with a draft script. She’d thrown in some background information on the production team and even included a copy of the proposal she’d submitted when pitching them the idea for the show.

He studied it, silent and still. And yet, Kennedy could practically feel the energy vibrating beneath his skin. Or was that just her imagination?

Closing the cover, Asher let out a low whistle. “You need a hobby.”

“No, I don’t.”

His eyes cut to her above the frosted edge of the plastic she’d placed on the front and back of the document. He held her gaze, to the point where she wanted to squirm beneath the pressure of his scrutiny. But she wouldn’t.

That was the thing about Asher that she’d learned early on...he was excellent at spotting and exploiting weaknesses while keeping any he might possess firmly under wraps. She worked damn hard at making sure not to reveal any to him. Or any more.

It was bad enough that he’d been an unwanted part of the most humiliating night of her life.

No matter how hard she worked or how competent she was, she didn’t think she’d ever live down that night. At least not with Asher.

“Look, this shouldn’t be difficult for you. You’re charming and gorgeous.”

“Thanks.”

Kennedy ignored the self-confident grin that curled his lips. “The camera will love you. You’ve got the script. Do me a favor and look over it on the plane.”

Maybe that would keep him occupied for a while and out of her personal space.

His gaze raked across her body, lingering on the low V-cut neckline of the T-shirt she’d thrown on this morning. It was unremarkable and not her normal office attire. But they were heading for Nassau where they’d meet up with the Amphitrite before sailing out to open sea.

She would not apologize for dressing comfortably, even if the way he was watching her made her regret not putting on the business clothes she typically used as armor.

His chest rose and fell as he leaned farther into her. Kennedy wanted to move away, but her body wouldn’t listen to the commands her brain was screaming.

God, he smelled good. That was the only clear thought running through her overwhelmed brain.

“Are you sure that’s what you want to do on the plane, Kennedy? I’m sure we can think of...more pleasant ways to pass the time.”

She blinked. Her body swayed. Somehow her hand ended up planted in the center of his chest. His wide, strong, hard chest.

A jangling sound startled her, breaking the spell. She jerked back, realizing it was the ringtone on her phone.

A smirk tugged at the edges of Asher’s lips even as a single, wicked eyebrow crooked up. The man knew exactly what kind of effect he had on women. Any woman with a pulse.

Irritation flaming through her, Kennedy snatched up her phone and said, “Hello,” without even looking at her screen.

“Ms. Duchane? This is Simone from Masters, Dillon and Cooper.”

Kennedy’s eyes widened. Her heart leaped into her throat and then immediately dropped to her toes.

This was the phone call she’d been waiting weeks to receive.

Pushing to her feet, she cut Asher a quick glance and then walked away. She really didn’t want him to hear her side of this conversation.

Crossing to the other side of the busy terminal, Kennedy tried to find a quiet corner.

“Hi, Simone. It’s great to hear from you. I’m sorry about the noise, but I’m at the airport waiting to board a plane for work.”

“Well then, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to let you know that everyone at the firm was very impressed with your résumé and your Skype interview. If you’re still interested, we’d like to offer you a position.”

“Yes. Absolutely.” She really needed to try a complete sentence. “I’m thrilled to get this opportunity.”

Masters, Dillon and Cooper was one of the premier advertising agencies in the Pacific Northwest. They handled major corporate clients with ties in the area, including an international coffee chain, a well-known airline, an adventure vacation company and many more. This was the chance of a lifetime. Exactly the kind of position she’d envisioned when she’d chosen marketing as her major.

She’d been working her ass off the past five years to earn this kind of opportunity and couldn’t believe she’d succeeded in landing it almost immediately after graduation.

Her hands started trembling, so much that Kennedy had to press the phone tight against her ear in order to hear the rest of what Simone said.

“Excellent. We’re excited to have you on board. But we need you here in three weeks. Is that doable?”

Kennedy began pacing, her restless energy and excitement needing an outlet so she wouldn’t squeal into the phone and scare the poor woman on the other end.

But that was a mistake, because when she turned, her gaze collided with Asher’s from across the terminal. He was watching her, that intense stare sending another shot of adrenaline through her body.

His presence was a reminder of the hurdles she still had to jump in order to make this work.

“As I mentioned in my interview, I’m in the middle of a major project that I can’t simply walk away from, but it should be complete by then.”

“Excellent, because your start date is important. Mr. Masters, Ms. Dillon and Mr. Cooper are forming a new division of the company and plan to make you part of that team. The kickoff meeting is in three weeks, and they require everyone present then.”

Kennedy swallowed, anxiety twisting in her belly. Three weeks wasn’t a very long time to get her life ready to move across the country, especially when she would be spending the majority of that on a ship in the middle of the Caribbean. But this was too good an opportunity to pass up.

“That shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Wonderful. I’ll send you an email with more details and some paperwork we’ll need you to complete. Safe travels and we’ll speak soon.”

Kennedy murmured her goodbyes.

In an ideal world she’d have taken the time to make lists, sift through details and plan. But she was about to board a plane and then hop immediately onto a ship heading for the open sea. She didn’t have the luxury of time.

And if making a handful of phone calls saved her the torture of sitting back down next to Asher, even better.

The first call she placed was to Jackson. He’d been aware that she’d interviewed, but decided not to tell his business partners about her potential resignation until it was an actuality. Luckily, it was late afternoon where he was. Unfortunately, he didn’t answer his phone, so she had to leave him a message. Not the way she wanted to break the news to him, but with the difference in their time zones and them both soon being in remote locations, she didn’t have much choice.

The next call was to her parents, who were thrilled she’d gotten the position but upset she’d be leaving so soon. After sweet-talking her mom into some sorting and packing, Kennedy hung up the phone, still buzzing and giddy from the excitement.

Until she turned, her gaze landing on Asher once more and the blatant reminder that several things still had to fall into place.

No matter what happened, this documentary had to be completed on time if she had any hope of making it to Seattle.

2

IT HAD BEEN several months since he’d been on the Amphitrite, but he always enjoyed being out in the field. Asher pulled the sea air into his lungs, letting it fill him up. Warm sun beat down on his skin, reminding him just why he did this.

There was nothing like making your living with the beach as your office. Any beach. He’d seen some of the most gorgeous sites in the world...and some of the worst humanity had to offer.

But that was behind him, and something he’d never even think about changing. Serving with the SEALs had been an honor. A legacy. The best thing he could ever hope to do with his life.

He’d grown up with stories of his father, the hero. The flag they’d handed his grandmother across the casket had hung on the wall above his bed.

All things considered, his life had turned out pretty well...even if there were days he felt empty.

He might not have any real family—because it was difficult to think of his mom as family when he hadn’t heard from her in twenty-seven years—but he didn’t need any. He’d forged his own connections in the brotherhood he’d found with the SEALs and the two men he considered closer than friends. Jackson, Knox and the rest of the Trident team were all the family he needed.

The quiet shush of water against the hull of the ship worked to center him. A welcome distraction from the fiasco that was about to unfold.

It was late afternoon, the heavy orange-red sun hanging low against the horizon as they headed away from Nassau. It would take them several hours to reach the dive site. The team had come into port to get supplies and pick up Kennedy, himself and the production crew that had met them at the dock.

Asher had studiously avoided Kennedy and the pile of heavy black cases and bags that had been loaded on under her watchful eye. It was better for his peace of mind.

Unfortunately, her voice, sharp with censure, floated across the deck, making that difficult. “Be careful with that!”

He turned, slumping against the hard railing, arm outstretched across the smooth surface. His gaze followed her every move. She was a hard woman to ignore.

Kennedy was a whirlwind of action. She made him tired just watching. A tiny stick of dynamite. She was bossy, full of opinions and not hesitant about sharing them...with anyone and everyone. Honestly, she reminded him quite a lot of his grandmother.

He’d loved his grandma with all his heart. Had been devastated when she passed six years into his tour with the SEALs. She’d been tough and smart, sweet and exacting. She’d pushed him, often beyond the boundaries he thought he could reach.

But she’d loved him. In his entire life, his grandmother had been the only woman who ever had.

Kennedy was a princess, but not the annoying self-centered kind. It had taken him one family function with her brother and father both present to realize the men in her life had given her confidence, made her feel secure in herself and her place.

And that confidence looked good on her, even if it was occasionally intimidating.

She was barely five feet, but it was hard to remember that when she looked at you out of those whiskey-colored eyes, so warm and bright. He liked whiskey, especially on her.

Kennedy directed the group of people milling about. They reminded him of a colorful school of fish, darting here and there without any real direction. But he had no doubt she would bring order.

She instructed the production crew where to store their gear and what bunks they’d be occupying for the next few weeks. Without so much as a cheat sheet. Kennedy knew exactly who was who, where they belonged and kept all the shit straight in her head.

It was impressive.

And why she’d be so damn successful.

At first he’d been very vocal about his reluctance to hire Kennedy. She was young, still in college, and they’d been a fledgling company with enough things working against them. He’d wanted to hire someone with experience and contacts that could help get Trident Diving and Salvage established.

And then he’d met her. And his protests had doubled, not because he thought she couldn’t do the job—it had taken him five minutes to know that she could—but because he’d needed to put as much distance between them as possible for his sanity.

So he’d pushed in every way he could imagine, placing walls and anger and animosity between them, hoping they’d be insurmountable obstacles.

But somehow Kennedy always seemed to scale them.

About twenty minutes after they’d shoved off, the chaos abated. She stood on the now quiet deck, her feet spread wide to compensate for the motion of the ship. Asher had the perfect view of her ass and the tight denim shorts that cupped the curve of it. He wanted to run his palm up the bare skin of her thigh, slipping his fingers beneath the hem.

Biting back a curse, he watched her shoulders rise and fall on a heavy sigh. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides for several seconds before she unfurled them.

“Did you enjoy the show?” she finally asked, turning just enough to look at him across the slope of her shoulder.

He grinned. It shouldn’t matter that she’d known he was there, watching. But it did.

“Always entertaining to watch you work, cupcake.”

Her mouth tightened, and something dangerous flashed through her golden eyes before she got control of it again.

Turning deliberately, she faced him, letting her gaze slip across his body, taking in his negligent pose for several seconds before crossing the deck to him.

She stopped a couple of feet away, just out of reach. Smart woman.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Kennedy speared him with a level gaze. “The crew would like to start tonight. Just a few test shots.”

“Won’t it be dark?”

Her lips twitched, drawing his attention. Part of him wanted to push until that ghost of a smile went full-blown, but he didn’t. Because her smile was deadly.

“Did you notice all the crates? I’m pretty sure a few of them contained lighting equipment.”

“S-Smart-ass.” Asher ground his teeth together, forcing his mouth closed.

And there it was, what he’d been dreading from the moment Kennedy had backed him into a corner.

He waited for her to react, but she didn’t. Instead, she shrugged. “They just want to get you on camera, no pressure and nothing important.”

No pressure. That was a rich joke. This entire project was nothing but pressure. A situation he wasn’t trained for and had zero experience handling. Hell, even thinking about it made his tongue swell, choking him—or at least if felt that way. It would get so much worse once the camera was in front of him, that blank eye staring, judging, recording every one of his failures for eternity.

And with Kennedy watching...all the ingredients for a full-blown disaster.

Her eyes ran up and down his body again. With one sweeping glance she ignited every nerve ending, making them all throb relentlessly.

He didn’t want to want this woman. And, yet, he couldn’t seem to stop his physical reactions to her—all of them.

“I’ll have wardrobe come to your room in about an hour. You might want to take a shower.”

Asher forced out a wicked grin. He chose his words carefully, deliberately. “You telling me I’m dirty, angel?”

She popped out a hip, balling a fist on it and glaring at him with irritation.

“Just so we’re on the same page, are you planning on cooperating or making this whole experience a pain in my ass?”

He lifted a single eyebrow.

“Yeah, I know the question is stupid, but I had to ask.” She let out a heavy sigh, closing her eyes for a few seconds. Suddenly, he could read all the little signs of exhaustion written into her face—the miniscule lines crinkling the corners of her mouth, the faint smudges of blue beneath her eyes, her drooping shoulders—and he wanted to fix it for her.

Shit.

“I have no intention of making your life difficult.”

She laughed, the sound far from humorous. “We both know that isn’t true, Ash. You delight in making my life difficult.”

“Not this time.”

“Yeah.” She shook her head, the soft cloud of honey-blond hair swirling around her shoulders. He wanted to take a handful of it and run it through his fingers to see if it was as silky as it looked.

He wanted to walk away from her and the weakness she caused deep inside him. That’s what he’d been doing for the past two years. Hell, that’s what he’d done his entire life. But today there was nowhere left to go. They were stuck together on this ship, and Kennedy was about to become his shadow.

His body throbbed at the idea of her being so close. Nope, not good. He couldn’t want her. He couldn’t touch her. She was Jackson’s little sister, forbidden fruit.

Asher had no doubt what his friend’s reaction would be if he ever touched Kennedy. Jackson was protective of his little sister, rightly so. He’d seen his friend put a fist through the face of a guy who had the misfortune of making a rather racy comment about Kennedy within Jackson’s hearing. Poor bastard hadn’t realized what had hit him until he was ass-down on the floor.

Jackson was family, but there was no question in Asher’s mind who he would choose if forced to take sides.

And no woman, not even Kennedy, was worth losing the only family he had and the business he’d invested his entire future in.

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” she finally said, spinning away and leaving him standing alone on the deck.

* * *

KENNEDY STOOD OFF to the side, arms crossed over her chest as she watched the crew work. It was intriguing, her first shoot, although she had to admit she wasn’t thrilled with the way Carmen, the makeup artist, was smiling and flirting with Asher. If she giggled one more time...

As if the man needed makeup to look gorgeous anyway. She had no doubt the camera was going to love him. Those mesmerizing eyes, sharp cheekbones and the tiny scar running right along the side of his lips...rakish, charming with the perfect dash of dangerous.

They’d commandeered the office. It was deep inside the belly of the ship, so a little darker than they’d wanted, but it provided a kind of professional setting the director was aiming for in these first shots, establishing Asher’s experience and expertise before following him into the water.

She and Daniel, the director, were murmuring about the schedule when Asher’s raised voice drifted up from the other side of the room.

“I’m not wearing that.”

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor grated down Kennedy’s spine.

Asher stood up, pulling out the paper towels Carmen had tucked into his collar to protect his dark navy T-shirt and threw them on the ground. “Kennedy!”

Everyone in the room turned to look at her. Dread and frustration spun in her belly. Beside her, the director stiffened. Biting back a curse, Kennedy narrowed her eyes, preparing for the explosion she could see coming.

The production company was already displeased that they were getting Asher instead of Jackson. She’d promised everyone involved that not only was Asher as knowledgeable about the Chimera, but that he’d be happy to cooperate with whatever they wanted to do.

So she’d basically lied, praying that she could keep control of the situation.

This outburst wasn’t a good omen.

Spearing her with his gaze, Asher growled, “Get over here and fix this.”

Throwing Daniel a tight-lipped smile, Kennedy excused herself and stalked over to where Asher stood in the corner of the room. The brunette with the brushes stared at them with wide eyes. The guy from wardrobe shifted on his feet, a suit—complete with matching vest and what appeared to be a bow tie—draped across his arms.

Asher lived in jeans, T-shirts, board shorts and flip-flops. He occasionally bowed to convention and put on a dress shirt and slacks for business meetings. She’d seen pictures of him in his military uniform and knew he must have worn formal dress on occasion. She remembered him wearing a suit once...but it definitely hadn’t involved a vest and bow tie.

The thought of him with that brightly colored scrap of cloth tied around his neck had laughter bubbling up inside her throat. She tried to swallow it back but wasn’t successful.

She took one look at Asher’s angry expression and the wardrobe guy’s hopeful gaze and knew this wouldn’t end well.

“Tell him I’m not wearing this.”

She shook her head. If she opened her mouth, she wasn’t going to be able to keep the laughter in. And that would not help the situation at all.

Kennedy hadn’t realized Daniel had followed her until his voice sounded behind her. “What’s the problem?”

Crud, she needed to fix this before Asher opened his mouth and said something they’d all regret.

Better they think her crazy. Kennedy let the laughter she’d been holding back fill the space between them.

Every pair of eyes turned to her. Asher’s eyebrows arrowed together, his mouth pulling down at the edges, making the white slash of his scar pop into sharp relief.

She held up a finger, pulled in a deep breath and was eternally grateful when everyone waited.

By the time she’d regained her composure, Asher had crossed his arms over his massive chest, biceps bulging. Damn the man was gorgeous.

Turning away, she directed her words to Cody, the wardrobe guy. “Look, I get what you’re trying to do. Does he look like a suit kind of guy? He spends most of his time wet and/or covered in sand.”

“But surely...” Cody began, his words trailing off as he took in Asher standing like a forbidding Greek god.

“Why don’t we compromise?” Turning to Asher, she continued, not giving anyone a chance to quash her plan. “Asher, I know for a fact this isn’t the first time you’ve worn a suit.”

“Baby girl, the last time I wore a suit like this was for my wedding. And the fact that my ex insisted should have been a clue the marriage was doomed.”

Kennedy tried not to react to his words. She’d had no idea he’d been married. No one had mentioned it to her, although she supposed there really hadn’t been a reason.

That little tease of information made her want to dig for more, but she pushed the urge away, trying to focus on the problem in front of her instead.

“One of the benefits of owning my own business is that I get to do what I want, which includes wearing whatever’s comfortable. And that—” Asher pointed at the suit “—looks far from comfortable.”

Daniel frowned and opened his mouth, but Kennedy cut him off. She really didn’t want to know what he was going to say, because there was no way Asher would take it well.

“Surely we can come to some agreement. I have to admit, the bow tie is a bit much.”

“It’s trendy,” Cody countered, his voice going up in defense of his choices.

“And might work with another man, but Asher Reynolds is an ex–navy SEAL. All the guys from Trident are. They aren’t trendy. They’re strong, dangerous, skilled. You put him in that thing, and you’re going to cover up what your viewers will fall in love with—his raw intensity and sexual charisma.”

Turning away from Cody without giving him a chance to respond, Kennedy focused on Asher. “The slacks, the shirt. Sleeves rolled up and collar unbuttoned. Relaxed sophistication.”

His eyes narrowed. She silently pleaded with him, unsure whether or not it would make a damn bit of difference.

Everyone stood there, silent, as tension stretched out second by second.

“No jacket and no goddamn vest.”

Kennedy nodded her head, relief flooding her. Grabbing the clothes from Cody, she shoved them into Asher’s arms before he changed his mind. “Go, put these on.”

He disappeared down the hall. The noise inside the room, which really wasn’t big enough to hold all the people and camera equipment, gradually increased to a normal level, or what she was coming to realize was normal for a functioning set.

But it all fell off again several minutes later. Kennedy, talking with the set director about moving some things off the desk, looked around and nearly swallowed her tongue.

Asher stood in the open doorway, a frown pulling at his lips as he fiddled with one of his cuffs. Damn, the man should wear a suit more often.

The snow-white shirt was crisp and made his tanned skin pop. The pants, a dark gray with a faint black pinstripe, hugged his hips and strained against the massive circumference of his thighs.

Beside her, she heard a soft voice whisper, “You were so right.” Glancing over, she took in Carmen, her beautiful blue eyes full of hero worship.

That propelled Kennedy forward, although she had no idea why.

Taking Asher’s arm, she pulled him across the room and over to the desk. The production team had debated having him sit in the chair behind the desk, but with the more casual wardrobe choice, they’d agreed to try it with him leaning against the edge, ankles crossed. As if he was talking to a buddy.

It had taken everything inside Kennedy for her to bite her tongue during the discussion. They hadn’t wanted her opinion, even if she did have a freakin’ marketing degree with a keen eye for composition and graphic design.

Putting her hands on his hips, she pushed Asher backward until his body folded.

“Wh-what are you doing?” he asked, his eyes narrowed and his entire body tight.

“Putting you where I want you,” she said, glancing up through her lashes for a second before jerking her gaze back down. Bad idea. Studying Asher Reynolds was like looking directly at a solar eclipse, likely to blind you. And she couldn’t afford that right now.

She waited for the rude comeback—she’d given him a perfect setup—but none followed.

Grasping the cuff he’d been fiddling with, she pulled it back down and smoothed the edges out before folding it into place. The backs of her fingers brushed against his warm skin. His soft arm hair tickled her nerve endings. He flexed, the muscles along his arm bulging.

Had he done that on purpose?

Satisfied with his cuff, Kennedy stepped back. She let her gaze run up him, trying to be objective. This was just like any other product she’d ever marketed. Color, composition, impact, message.

There were things about working at Trident that she absolutely loved. But the thrill of using her skills—of doing what she enjoyed and was good at—effervesced through her body. Working for a diving company just didn’t give her enough opportunities to use her training.

Asher looked elegantly casual. As if he’d just spent hours working a major business deal and finally had a chance to relax.

There was just one thing wrong...

Stepping back to him, Kennedy went up on her tiptoes. She was short and he was tall. Even with Asher leaning against the desk, she couldn’t reach what she wanted without pressing her entire body against him.

She tried not to notice the way her breasts brushed the hard plane of his chest as she dug her fingers into his hair.

Asher shifted beneath her. His hands landed on her hips. She felt the heat of them down to her toes.

“What are you doing?”

Kennedy didn’t answer but ran her fingers through his hair, rumpling the light brown strands. Whoever had done it had obviously been going for a more formal look, which might have worked before but not now. They’d slicked through a bunch of gel, trying to tame the natural wave his hair had when it grew a little too long.

She liked the waves. They were rakish and fit his personality. She fussed and tugged, prolonging the contact a few seconds more than necessary. Yeah, so she was human.

Finally forcing herself to push away from him, Kennedy tried to ignore the way his hands lingered for several seconds.

“Better,” she said, her voice suddenly scratchy.

Clearing her throat, Kennedy tried to find her professionalism. She knew it was inside, buried deep. And she needed it. Right now.

Turning away, she gestured to the director. “He’s all yours.”

3

HIS HEAD WAS so scrambled. Having Kennedy pressed against his body, her hands threading through his hair as her fingernails gently scraped against his scalp had been heaven. And torture.

Thank God no one seemed to notice the heavy bulge behind the zipper of his pants.

All around him there was a whirlwind of activity. People speaking to each other as if he wasn’t even there. The woman with the makeup brushes just walked up and started messing with his face without even giving him a heads-up.

The tech guys spoke back and forth in a language that sounded like something foreign, even though he was certain they were speaking English. He had no idea what a gyro camera was, but apparently it was supposed to counter the constant motion of the ship as they filmed.

Kennedy and Daniel had their heads together. She fit right in. The gleam of excitement in her eyes and slight flush to her cheeks were difficult to miss. She was enjoying this while he was fighting the urge to vomit.

The familiar helplessness churned in his belly. That fear and anxiety crawling up his skin, making it burn. If he thought there was any chance at all to get Kennedy banished from this room he would have done it. The cameras were going to be bad enough, but with her there... Asher wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold it together.

But just watching her, he knew nothing short of a hurricane would force her out of this room right now.

She’d spent months putting this project together. It meant everything to her.

Kennedy was completely oblivious to the effect she had on people. Which only made her more dangerous.

She wasn’t perfect. By the end of the day her makeup was often smudged, just enough to make her look adorable. When it was free, her hair usually rained down her back in reckless waves that refused to be tamed. And when she tried tying it into a knot on top of her head, pieces always escaped to curl against her neck and cheeks.

Like now.

Instead of using an elastic band like a normal woman, she’d found a couple of pens and stuck them in like sticks to hold the messy coil on her head.

“All right.” Daniel clapped his hands. The room went silent, everyone stopping what they were doing.

“We’re going to take our time here, folks. Asher is new to being in front of the camera, although Kennedy assures me he’s a natural.”

A natural. Jesus, could she have told a bigger lie?

Daniel smiled at Kennedy. Asher had no idea how she’d managed it, but the man’s earlier irritation had disappeared. Kennedy grinned back at him, her enthusiasm glittering and contagious.

For a minute he wanted to believe everything was going to be okay.

And then his gaze swung to the empty eye of the camera and panic seized him.

His tongue swelled. His chest tightened, one pound of pressure adding to two and then more, as if he’d gone fast beneath the waves without taking the time to pressurize. The heaviness settled deep, pressing on his lungs and making it difficult to pull in a full breath.

Closing his eyes, Asher tried to find a center of calm, but all he got was a memory of his mother. Her expression full of impatience, anger and disappointment. As if he’d been a reminder of everything that was wrong with her life.

He’d been young when she left, just six. Those were the only memories he really had of the woman, her presence in his life limited even before his father had died and she’d abandoned him for good.

Asher forcibly pushed the memories away. It had been years since his mother had invaded his thoughts, and he didn’t like her there. It bothered him that he’d let her in, especially when he was already fighting to keep his cool.

He remembered nights out in harsh environments with only the supplies he could carry and the men beside him standing against death and disaster. He hadn’t felt this kind of panic then, not even when they’d been ambushed, lost communications with their evac team and spent hours trading gunfire and trying to figure out an exit strategy.

“Asher.” Kennedy’s soft voice pulled him out of the mental tailspin. His gaze snapped to hers, zeroing in on those warm brown eyes. “Daniel wants you to just talk a bit about the Chimera. How did Trident get involved with hunting for the ship? Go into a bit about how you, Jackson and Knox met.”

Asher clung desperately to the excuse she’d given him. “You know I can’t talk about our missions with the SEALs.”

She shook her head. “That’s not what I mean. Or not exactly. Just...how did you guys become friends, start the business?”

“All right.”

Asher took a deep breath. With Kennedy close, he suddenly felt as if he was going to suffocate sitting in this tiny room.

She frowned at him, creases forming right between her eyes. He could imagine the disappointment that would fill them when she finally realized he was about to ruin everything.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he gritted out, not meaning it at all. But he wasn’t about to tell her the truth.

Her whiskey eyes toured his face. Years of practice allowed Asher to clamp down on his reactions, forcing a calm he didn’t feel to settle over his features.

Her mouth compressed into a tight line, but before she could say anything more, Daniel squeezed between them.

“Kennedy has explained what I’m looking for?”

“Yes,” Asher answered, forcefully pulling his gaze away from Kennedy.

“Excellent.”

Everyone backed away from him, and for the first time since walking into the room, his personal space was his own. He’d wanted that, but the relief was short-lived when the people who’d crowded in scuttled off to the edges of the room.

They were lined up against the wall, out of the line of the camera, but available should they be needed.

And they were all staring at him. Silent. Waiting.

He’d lived through this nightmare before. Sitting in the middle of a classroom with all the kids around him playing witness to his humiliation and failure. Impatience oozing from them because he couldn’t open his mouth and get a simple goddamn word past his uncooperative vocal cords to answer the teacher.

The frustration and resentment.

But this was different than those moments. So much worse. Everything he said and did would not only be witnessed by these people, but recorded and reflected back. Every flaw and gaffe magnified for the entire world to see.

He’d faced down terrorists, bombers—men, women and, hell, children—who’d wanted to kill him merely because of who he was and what he represented. With the SEALs he’d gained a reputation for having ice in his veins, walking into the most chaotic situations with a confidence that bordered on insanity.

Because he trusted in his training, his skills and those of the men fighting beside him.

It was terrifying not to be able to trust his own body to perform the way it should. Not to have the skills to conquer the irrational fear roiling inside of him because of a stupid inanimate object—a camera.

He would not lose his shit now. Not over this.

Swallowing the gigantic lump that was trying to suffocate him, Asher’s gaze found the expectant eye of the lens...and Kennedy. She stood several feet behind the camera positioned on the large metal frame.

To her left the director said, “Action.”

To her right the camera moved. Asher’s system flooded with adrenaline. His senses, dialed up to a ten already, kicked into overdrive.

His fingers curled around the edge of the desk, the wood biting into his skin hard enough to leave marks.

His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

The director cut a glance at Kennedy, who frowned and shifted uncomfortably on her feet.

“Asher, why don’t you start by telling us who you are and how you got involved with Trident Diving?”

He nodded, swallowed and tried again. But nothing came out.

Shit.

The quiet that had descended over the room began to fade. Feet shuffled. Someone murmured. Somewhere paper fluttered.

He wasn’t going to be able to do this.

The memory of every humiliation he’d ever experienced because of his failures came flooding back to him. His struggle to be understood through the debilitating stutter that all the experts claimed was psychological, but that he couldn’t seem to stop. Each time he’d seen sorrow, frustration and disappointment in his grandmother’s eyes when therapy didn’t work. His inability to make his mom happy. Make her stay. Walking into his home, after being gone for months, to find it absolutely empty of everything but the divorce papers Krista had left for him.

“Fuck this,” he growled, shoving away from the desk and stalking toward the door. He didn’t need to add another failure to a list that was already plenty long.

No one tried to stop him. The crowd stared even as they parted to let him pass. He didn’t look at any of them.

He didn’t need to.

The expression of utter horror on Kennedy’s face was enough.

* * *

HOLY HELL, WHAT had just happened?

One minute Asher had been leaning against the desk looking all remote, brooding and eminently lickable, and the next he’d been cursing and storming out.

The second he disappeared every eye in the place turned to her. She had no clue what to say.

Daniel scowled at her. “What was that?”

She shook her head, at a complete loss. “I have no idea.”

“Ms. Duchane, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how valuable our time is. Every minute we sit idle costs the company money. No one is going to be happy about this. Our entire show revolves around that man.” He pointed out the door.

“I’ll fix this.”

“You better. No one at Naughton Media was thrilled when your brother backed out.”

Yeah, neither was she, but there wasn’t much she could do about it.

“I have just as much invested in this as you do, Daniel.” Maybe more since her entire future hinged on this going well. If the documentary faltered her position in Seattle could be in jeopardy.

Kennedy pulled in some much-needed oxygen, hoping it would settle her own jangling nerves.

“Look, I just need a little time to figure out what’s going on.” Turning fully toward him, she placed her hand on his arm and pressed into his personal space. It was a calculated tactic, but one she didn’t feel a smidge of remorse for employing.

She’d do whatever she had to in order to fix this.

“It isn’t like you can just pack up and leave.”

She realized maybe those weren’t the best words she could have chosen when Daniel’s mouth went tight.

“I’ll take care of it,” she promised again.

She didn’t wait for Daniel to react before pushing through the people clustered at the doorway.

She stood in the hallway for several seconds, scrolling through a list of places in her head that Asher could have disappeared to. His room was a logical choice, but he’d realize that and probably avoid it. There was the upper deck, but it wouldn’t provide much in the way of privacy. The captain was in the wheelhouse steering the Amphitrite. The galley and mess were rejected pretty much before she’d thought of them because everyone went there when they had time off.

Where would he go?

In a flash, it hit her. When Jackson was frustrated, he turned to the water. When Knox needed to clear his head, he took his car out on to the open road. On more than one occasion she’d found Asher in an empty office at Trident, the guts of several guns spread out across the desk as he painstakingly cleaned each one.

The only problem was empty space was at a premium. Luckily, she knew a little secret.

Instead of heading toward the open deck, Kennedy strode farther down the hall, away from the fresh air and light. Down a tight set of stairs at the back of the hallway.

The noise of the engines rumbled louder and louder, but she ignored it. The vibration running through her chest was more difficult to dismiss.

The space was dark and damp and uncomfortably warm from the combination of tropical heat and running engines. Her clothes began to cling to her skin.

There was a small room that most people didn’t even know was down here. They stored spare parts for the ship, tools, equipment that was rarely used.

And a small table she’d never understood the need for. She did now.

Jerking open the door, she was pleased when her hunch proved correct. Asher didn’t even look up as he continued to break apart the piece in his hands.

She couldn’t help but watch his dexterous fingers sliding across the smooth metal with authority and familiarity.

What would those hands feel like on her skin?

Kennedy pushed the question away, refusing to acknowledge that it even existed.

“What the hell happened back there?” she asked.

His hot gaze flicked up to hers for a brief moment before dropping back to his task.

At least he didn’t try to pretend he had no clue what she was talking about...he simply ignored her. Kennedy thought maybe that was worse.

Her temper flared, which wasn’t anything new with this man. There was something about Asher that got under her skin, pulled a reaction from her that seemed too big to control.

What was it about him that drew her in even as she realized the only result would be pain, irritation and probably humiliation?

Today, she’d had enough.

Stalking forward, Kennedy stopped on the opposite side of the table from him. Without hesitation, she leaned over and snatched the gun out of his hand.

He reached after her, trying to grab it back. She might be small, but she was quick, and the table stood between them.

“Give that back,” he growled. “You could hurt yourself.”

“Please.” To prove her point, Kennedy studied the weapon for a moment, scooped up the missing parts from the table and quickly reassembled the piece.

She had to admit, his stunned, slack-jawed expression left her feeling rather smug.

“Do you really think my brother would let his little sister go without marksman lessons? I’ve been going to the shooting range with my dad and Jackson since I was in pigtails. I know my way around a weapon, soldier.”

For the first time in their abbreviated history, Kennedy felt as if she had Asher off-kilter. It was a heady experience. One that made her a little bolder than she normally would have been.

Skirting around the table, she stepped closer to him. She blindly set the gun on the flat surface behind her.

“Now that we have the distractions out of the way, why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

His bright green eyes flashed, reminding her of cool spring forests and the scent of pine needles crushed underfoot. “The distractions are far from out of the way.”

For a second she thought his gaze caught and held on her mouth. But that couldn’t be right. And he obviously hadn’t meant his words the way her libido wanted to take them.

Maybe this was a bad idea. Her brain told her she needed to turn away and walk out the door. But she didn’t. Couldn’t. Kennedy stared up at him, her throat tight and heart hammering against her ribs for some unfathomable reason.

She wasn’t scared. She wasn’t even angry, not really. But her entire body was energized. Alive.

She always felt this way around Asher. It was exhilarating, not to mention exceedingly frustrating, considering on most days she wasn’t even certain she liked the man. Apparently, her body didn’t seem to care.

At his sides, Asher’s fingers flexed, curling into tight fists before relaxing and curling again.

“Ash,” she said in a calm, even voice. “I’m here to help, but I can’t do that if you’re not straight with me.”

He looked away. The edge of his jaw ticked.

“I told you already I can’t do this.”

She laughed. She didn’t mean to, but it escaped before she could help herself.

“This isn’t f-funny,” he growled.

No, she didn’t think it was, either. “You’re one of the most capable men I’ve ever met, Asher. It’s no secret that you and I rub each other the wrong way.”

His fists flexed again, his body looming a little closer.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m blind or can’t appreciate what you bring to the team. I honestly don’t think there’s any problem you couldn’t tackle. Anyone you couldn’t charm. You’re abrasive and irreverent, but even that can be endearing because it means you’re honest and forthright.”

Her own words were revving the exasperation simmering beneath her surface. Why the hell was he balking?

“So, I’m basically calling bullshit. You can do this. You just don’t want to, and I can’t for the life of me understand why.”

Asher stood inches away from her. He towered above her, those damn green eyes drilling deep inside her with an intensity that made her belly flutter.

“I have a problem.” Each word was clipped and deliberate, almost as if he was grinding them out like broken glass between his clenched teeth.

“Obviously. Why don’t you tell me what it is, so I can fix it?”

He shook his head.

She growled beneath her breath.

Asher glared at her for several seconds, the burden of their mingled frustration a physical weight pressing in on them both.

His lips drew tight, flattening into a harsh line. It didn’t take a genius to realize he wanted her to leave. Tough. She wasn’t going anywhere until this was solved.

“I don’t like being on camera. I have a st-st-stutter that gets worse when I’m under stress. Starring in your damn documentary pretty much pulls every trigger. I can’t do it.”

Kennedy’s eyes widened. She took in Asher’s grim expression. The way his shoulders had begun to hunch downward. She’d watched this man storm into their conference room. She’d seen him chew out one of the guys on their dive team because he’d been lax about his safety procedures. On several nights out with the team after work, she’d watched him deliberately, coolly and expertly seduce some bar bunny into going home with him.

For a brief moment she wanted to laugh again. But she couldn’t. Because she’d heard the hesitation in his words.

It wasn’t the first time she’d heard it, either, but it was the first time she’d really thought about it. It didn’t happen often.

She’d listened as he’d addressed boardrooms, led conference calls and shot the shit with her brother and Knox countless times without the hint of a problem.

In fact, in all the time she’d known him, she could count on one hand the number of times it had happened. Before, she’d dismissed it. Hell, sometimes her brain moved faster than her mouth and she stumbled over words.

But his scant flash of horror, concealed almost before it had a chance to appear, made her pause for the briefest moment.

Slowly, she said, “Okay.”

Her heart thumped erratically inside her chest. He hid it well, but Kennedy could see the edge of vulnerability that Asher’s admission had cost him. Could see the tension filling his body as he braced for her to verbally pounce on what he’d just revealed.

Because that was the relationship they’d shared for months.

But this wasn’t him ribbing her about the night he’d bailed her out of jail for indecent exposure or her teasing him about the revolving door he’d clearly installed in his bedroom.

One long look into his brilliant green eyes and her chest ached for him.

Damn the man for actually being human.

An expletive ran through her head. Kennedy’s knees buckled. Luckily, she was close enough to the table that her rear hit the edge instead of the floor.

Asher’s hands bracketed her hips, steadying her. “Easy.”

The imprint of each of his fingers burned into her skin. Kennedy registered her body’s reaction to his touch but pushed it aside. She didn’t want to notice how he made her feel. And she had bigger fish to fry.

Oh, this was a clusterfuck of immeasurable proportions.

“Why didn’t you tell me before now?” she finally whispered. If he’d been honest with her, she might have been able to find a way to fix this mess. Now they were both stuck in the middle of the Caribbean with a production team that expected a beautiful former navy SEAL as an expert, and she had none.

“Right, because there’s nothing humiliating about admitting that kind of weakness to a beautiful woman.”

Kennedy wasn’t sure which part of that statement to address first.

“But I’m not some woman, Asher. We’re colleagues. You’re my brother’s business partner and friend. What did you think I would do?”

He shrugged, looking wholly vulnerable and adorable all at once. It was unexpected and called to the quiet place inside her that liked being needed.

“I haven’t exactly made your life easy.”

“Jesus, Ash, we snipe at each other, like siblings.”

His fingers slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, grazing the bare skin at her hip. She couldn’t stop the involuntary inhalation of surprise that whistled past her parted lips.

Asher groaned. “Not like siblings.”

What the hell was going on? Had she walked through that door and into an alternate universe?

No, this couldn’t be happening. Not now. She’d ignored her attraction to Asher for two years. Gone out of her way to subvert it.

Given her sketchy history with men, the last thing she needed was to get entangled with her brother’s business partner and best friend. Not to mention a man who was technically her boss.

Placing her hands on Asher’s chest, Kennedy pushed. For several seconds, he resisted, an immovable wall of male flesh that made her feel itchy and needy and trapped all at once. Until he stepped back and cool air flooded her lungs.

“So,” Kennedy said, forcing determination and a calm she didn’t quite feel into her voice. “What are we going to do?”

4

WHAT WERE THEY going to do? They weren’t going to do anything. He was going to have to figure his way out of this one.

But the first thing he needed to do was get Kennedy out of here. He’d been in some of the most remote, desolate and hot as hell places on earth. But with her standing so close to him, Asher felt as if the air was an inch thick, clogging his lungs. That damn scent of hers clung to him, something sweet with an undercurrent of spice. A little innocent and a lot tempting.

“We aren’t going to do anything, cupcake.” He frowned, pulling his focus away from her and onto the gun sitting on the table behind her.

She’d shocked the hell out of him, putting that Beretta together so quickly.

He wasn’t the kind of man who thought women couldn’t do things like that. He’d worked with plenty of women in the service who were just as fierce and capable as their male counterparts. It had simply surprised him when Kennedy had done it.

He’d never seen her at the shooting range and didn’t realize she had the skills.

He was impressed.

And didn’t want to be.

Krista had always turned her nose up whenever he brought out his weapons. She’d complained that he spent money on them. It bothered her when he went to the range to practice. It never seemed to register with her that the skills he was honing kept him alive and brought him home to her every time he walked out the door.

The gun safe was one of the few things she’d left when she’d cleaned out their house.

Kennedy crossed her arms over her chest. This up close and personal it was difficult to ignore the way her breasts rounded higher, pressing against the tight confines of her shirt.

The erection he’d been sporting earlier roared back to life, pounding incessantly behind his zipper.

“The next time you call me cupcake, I’m going to shove one in your face. Fair warning. And if you think I’m going to just walk away from this and pretend everything’s okay, you have another think coming. This is my project, Asher. My job. Work with me here.”

She wasn’t going to leave this alone. He’d known Kennedy long enough to realize that when she sank her teeth into a problem, she didn’t let go until it was solved. Her single-minded determination was both frustrating and admirable.

Nothing stood in her way. In some ways, Kennedy reminded him of his grandmother. That woman hadn’t pulled any punches, literally. She’d been a true Southern matriarch, willing to cuff him upside the head for being disrespectful, only to follow up the deserved punishment with the warmest, biggest hug on the planet.

She’d never hesitated to put him in his place when he’d needed it, and as an angry, scared, hurting adolescent, he’d needed it often. She’d had the highest hopes for him, expecting him to do her and the memory of his father proud.

When his father was killed in action and his mother abandoned him, his grandmother had given him a safe place. So he’d wanted desperately to make her proud. His every decision growing up had been for that one purpose.

But the pressure he’d felt to live up to the glowing ideal of his father and make up for his mother dumping him on her doorstep had been huge. Difficult for a child to shoulder.

Right now, he felt the same weight as Kennedy stared up at him expectantly.

“I’ve got this,” Asher forced out.

“Obviously not, or you wouldn’t have run from that room like someone had tossed in a grenade.”

Kennedy pressed closer. Asher countered with a single step backward. He would have gone farther, but his back collided with the solid plane of the wall. Damn the small room.

She crowded him, glaring up out of those mesmerizing eyes, golden and fierce.

“You’re not going to g-give up on this, are you?”

“No.”

He stared down at her, his mind spinning and his body in turmoil—his need for her intertwining uncomfortably with the fear that surfaced each time he thought about standing in front of those damn cameras.